The One Who Got Away - L.A. Detwiler

Скачать книгу

the exciting one, the wily one, for last. Oh, yes, that last one will be a masterpiece of a kill. I’ll work hard and perfect my craft. I’ll master the rules of the game before I tackle the final one.

       Patience is a virtue. That’s what I always learned. Patience. Patience. Patience.

      She’s special, that last one. Even before I allowed myself to recognise the thirst in me and welcomed it to the top of my consciousness, I’d perhaps known it would be her. She’s always drawn me in. Why? I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s her spirit, that zestful way she walks and talks. Maybe it’s the fire in her eyes that reminds me of her. I don’t know. It’s hard to pinpoint. But when you know, you know, whether it’s love, lust, or some other form of the two. For three years, she’s drawn me in, a moth circling the flickering light but never getting close enough to get zapped.

       Soon enough, she’ll be the moth, entangled and entranced by me. I’ll be the one wielding the light and then snatching her wings before she can get away. It’ll be me. All me.

       I shake my head, taking the pencil from between my teeth and tossing it across the room. Dammit. I’m getting ahead of myself now. Bloody hell, it doesn’t do to get ahead. The plan is carefully laid. It’s why I spent so much time plotting it out. It needs to be perfect. One misstep, and that glorious, final moment of power won’t come.

       I must be patient, stay calm. The task has started. I can’t lose my mind now. I’ve got to keep with it, to be careful. It won’t do to get caught now. It’ll ruin everything.

      I tap my fingers on the edge of the table, calming my mind, lasering it in on Elizabeth. Recall the details. Think about it all. You need to perfect this. You need to master your craft. Do a good job.

       Elizabeth. My mind trains itself on her, and I think back to the tale I’ve written, the ending to her story that began with my meticulous, godlike planning.

       Once I’d learned of the dinner invitation, I knew my opportunity would arise. I’d overheard Elizabeth talking about the evening with some friends in the town centre, complaining about all the fuss her parents would make her go through when she’d rather just stay home and spend time with her fiancé. She made a plan to feign illness, and I knew my time had come.

       The night of the dinner would be the perfect time to strike, I’d decided quickly. I knew how girls like her worked. I just had to be calm and collected. I had to be sure. I’d do some watching and waiting, just to ensure I was correct and that she didn’t back out of her plan. And then, once all was set, I had to make it fast. No luxuriating in the actual kill this time. The first would have to be efficient. This would not be a pleasure kill, not completely. I told myself I would not afford myself that bonus. It would be all about the craft, the tactic, the mastering of the art.

       There would be time enough to feed my fancies and to bask in the excitement of it all.

       Taking her life had been the easy part, much simpler than I’d once imagined. I am strong, and she was so weak. Females are all so, so delicate. It makes them beautiful, but so easy to kill. Moving her to another location to handle her body, to leave my mark – that had been more challenging. But I know all the alleys in town. I know the most inconspicuous routes. I know a lot about West Green that so many overlook.

       And I’m also always up for a challenge.

       I fold the newspaper article and tuck it into the wooden box underneath the unopened post. I close the box shut with a grin, wiping my hands on my stiff trousers. I’ve done it. And they have no clue it was me. The fools have no clue.

       ‘Deranged killer’. They think it’s the work of a ‘deranged killer’!

       I laugh at the thought. They think they know. They think they have it all figured out. But they have no idea. They don’t know my master plan.

       And I can’t wait to show it to them, one by beautiful one.

       Chapter 2

       West Green, Crawley, West Sussex

       13 June 1959

      ‘Adeline Walker, you aren’t going, so I don’t know why you bothered taking all that time to get ready,’ my mother spits. I gawk at her as she twirls the pearl earrings in her lobes. I think about how her red lips and eyeshadow are way too much, even for a woman like her. Hand on her hip, she stands at the other side of our dining room table, her eyes lasering into me as if she can cause me to spontaneously combust.

      I stare vehemently back. ‘For Christ’s sake, Mum, I’m nineteen. You can’t keep me hostage forever, especially if you’re so damn worried about me being a spinster.’

      ‘Adeline Walker, you will not speak to me like that in my house.’

      ‘Then maybe I’ll scurry on out of Dad’s house,’ I spew back, putting the emphasis on Dad. She hates that I’m a daddy’s girl. I think it makes her jealous that he gives me more attention than her.

      ‘Enough. Now look. I know you have these lovely plans, but I’m sorry. With no updates from the police on Elizabeth’s killer, it’s not safe.’

      I raise an eyebrow. ‘Weren’t you the one who swore up and down that moving to West Green would be just lovely when you pulled me out of school three years ago to come to this beastly town?’

      ‘That’s enough, Adeline. I hope someday you realise what you have here. Two parents who love you, a father with a good job. Honestly. What more could you want?’

      ‘To go on my date with Charles and have a little fun.’

      ‘Fun is what got you into trouble in the last town, if you recall. I won’t have you ruining your reputation again. It’s been three years, Adeline. Three years since we had to move away. You were lucky we could run away from it all last time. I won’t have you ruining yourself now.’

      I roll my eyes, anger flaring at the mention of what happened. I was young. I was a little reckless, yes. But I was a girl who followed her heart.

      ‘You act like I murdered someone,’ I spew.

      ‘It could’ve been worse. If we’d stayed, you’d have actually ended up pregnant at sixteen. And then what?’

      ‘We’re not talking about this,’ I argue. I hate when she brings up the past. I shudder at her words, thinking about all that she doesn’t know. All that’s happened since we moved to West Green. All that’s happened in the past few months.

      I return my focus to the conversation at hand. ‘Well, you should be chuffed then, Mother, that I’m getting serious. I’m nineteen, and I’m in a serious, steady relationship. After all, isn’t that what you want? You did mention that West Green could provide me with a “suitable man”, didn’t you?’

      Mother rolls her eyes, sighing. ‘A factory worker isn’t exactly what I had in mind.’

      I sneer at her blatant disdain towards Charles Evans, who hails from Langley Green and not money. This infuriates my mother to no end. When she meant we could find me a “suitable man” here in West Green, I believe she was hoping we’d find one from a wealthy family who was naive about my somewhat lacklustre background. A man like Oliver, whom mother still thinks I have a chance of reconciling with. If only she knew the truth.

      Instead, to her dismay, I’d met Charles Evans at the train station in Northgate. I suppose at first she thought he was a phase, a rebound after Oliver. But three months later, I think she knows better. I think she sees what I’ve known since that first night – Charles is the one I love. And she couldn’t be more peeved at the thought of her daughter marrying

Скачать книгу